


Whisper me a sin and I'll take you there

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ethically Ambiguous, F/M, Kink Meme, Smut, Therapist!Clarke, but it's not actually very kinky tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Prompt: Clarke is Bellamy's therapist. In sessions, more often than not, he slips up and tells her his fantasies.This is more ethically ambiguous than anything, and not actually very kinky. Still, it was a prompt from the kink meme, and you are warned as such.





	Whisper me a sin and I'll take you there

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this was from the kink meme, and again, it's not actually very kinky. But Clarke is Bellamy's therapist, and ya know, smut, which I'm pretty certain is not what that kinda relationship should involve.
> 
> So if that's not your thing, sweet. Don't read!
> 
> If it is, I hope you enjoy me writing about what a therapist would probably never do at all ever in real life. The beauty of fic, right?
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time it happens, they’re three months into their sessions, and Bellamy notices immediately.

He’s already been an interesting client, if Clarke’s being honest. Ridiculously attractive, all bronzed skin and impressive arms and broad shoulders, which should not at all matter to her, as his therapist, and a solid amount of emotional baggage centring his mother and sister to go with it, which is a lot more relevant to her job title. Emotional baggage that took Clarke _three sessions_ to identify, because along with being hot, he also happened to be stubborn and slightly combative, reluctant to open up to her even when he was paying good money to keep coming back.

He was intriguing, and Clarke liked that he made her work hard for what she got. It not only came as a welcome distraction from his stupidly handsome face and his ridiculously deep voice- the rumble of which continuously has her suppressing a shiver, which, _honestly_ - but it also made the victories of progress sweeter. There was no that doubt Clarke had earned his trust in the weeks that had passed, and it was nothing short of satisfying to have Bellamy slowly open up to her, to see how their sessions have started helping him.

So yeah, she’s already invested in Bellamy Blake, more so than other clients (dangerously so), but after this, there’s really no comparison, because:

“I think I need to fuck someone, honestly,” he says, somehow _contemplative_ about it, after Clarke tells him he should start up a list of things he wants to do, just for himself; trying to introduce him to the notion of living a life that’s his own.

Clarke sucks in a sharp breath, this time unable to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine at his words, and his eyes immediately find hers, going wide as a red flush of embarrassment creeps up his face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, looking as though he’s considering getting up to go to her before thinking better of it. “That was -- god, that was completely inappropriate, I shouldn’t have --  _fuck_.”

Clarke clears her throat, feels herself go pink as she ducks her head to hide a smile that holds too much nervous energy. It’s not that she’s never had a client talk about sex with her before, because she has, and she’s been able to remain completely professional in those situations. But she’s never had a client who looks like _Bellamy_ , who she likes way too much for what their relationship should allow, say quite so bluntly, that they want to get laid.

“No, it’s -- fine,” Clarke manages to say after a beat, looking back up to offer Bellamy, now fidgeting in his seat and looking like he’s debating leaving and never returning, a polite smile. “Unexpected, yes, but not inappropriate to bring up with me.”

She apparently sounds convincing enough, because he blows out a tense breath, visibly relaxes in front of her. She’s kind of amazed that he’s taking her word for it so easily, honestly. He’s come a long way in just a few months.

“You have a lot of clients talk about their sex lives with you?” He asks, running a hand though his hair and offering a sheepish smile.

“People who want to focus on sex usually see someone who specialises in that,” Clarke responds, careful. “It’s not usually a major point with my clients, but I’m not scandalised when it’s brought up in sessions.” She clears her throat again, sees that their hour’s almost up and makes herself say what she would with anyone else. “If you think it’ll be good for you, I won’t disagree,” she says, ignoring how something hot and ugly curls up in her stomach. Jealousy. She’s definitely in too deep. But she’s a professional, and so before she stands up to see him out, she finishes: “As long as it’s safe and consensual, if sex is what you want, go for it.”

He doesn’t mention it when he comes in for their next session, which is obviously a normal thing to do. But Clarke still can’t help but wonder whether he did it. He doesn’t look any different as he sits down on the couch opposite her, unwinding his scarf and shedding his coat as he smiles all crooked at her, asks how her week’s been- because now that he’s gotten over his initial uncertainty of Clarke, they’re _friendly_ - but it’s not like she would really be able to _tell_.

Maybe he really did go out for a night on the town, pick up a girl or guy to take home and fuck. Just the thought of it makes her run both hot and cold, a jagged line between the idea of Bellamy having sex and the idea of Bellamy having sex with _someone who’s not her_. A sharp surge of possessiveness over a man she has no claim to.

She pushes the feeling to the back of her mind as she responds, starting their session easy like they always do, just a small catch up of the previous week, and reminds herself that she’s a professional. And professionals do not wonder whether their clients fucked someone recently, _or_ have fantasies of fucking their clients themselves, no matter how devastatingly gorgeous or gruffly charming.

She has to remind herself of that _three times_ in that session, because he’s honestly just -- ruined her, a little bit, with that one sentence-  _I think I need to fuck someone_ - like he’s broken a dam and now Clarke’s just trying to stay afloat in the rapids. It of course doesn’t get any better when, after forty minutes and a reasonable amount of talking through the ongoing issues that are Bellamy’s fucked up childhood, he blurts out, “I couldn’t do it.”

It takes Clarke a second, eyebrows raising in surprise as she regards Bellamy in front of her, leg bouncing up and down nervously.

“Pardon?” She asks, and he huffs, meets her eyes for only a second before looking down at his hands, clenched into fists on his knees.

“I couldn’t do it,” he repeats, and before she can ask him to elaborate further, he continues. “Sleep with someone, I mean,” he says, and Clarke flushes hot all at once, feels herself become more alert at just the _mention_ of it. She’s pathetic, honestly, and definitely toeing the line of the ethical oath she took becoming a therapist. He looks up when she doesn’t manage a quick enough response, eyes dark as they regard her. “I don’t have to talk about it,” he offers, but Clarke’s already shaking her head.

“No,” she says, because it’s not up to her what her client’s talk about. Maybe he needs this. And maybe it’ll help get this lust out of her system. (It doesn’t ring true even in her head). “I already told you I’m not scandalised by this stuff, Bellamy. If you want to talk about it, I’m more than willing to listen.”

He considers her for a long moment, and Clarke can see that he’s trying to work out what to do, but he must decide this is a big enough issue to talk through, because: “It’s hard to establish the kind of sex you want, with a one night stand.”

“In what way?” Clarke asks, careful not to fidget under his still-heavy gaze, not to show how much this is already affecting her, the way heat prickles at her skin and desire curls in her belly.

Another long pause, Bellamy’s eyes shifting around the room, his jaw working slowly before, “I like rough sex,” he finally admits, and his voice is deliciously low, a raw quality to it that makes Clarke wonder if this is the first time he’s said that out loud. “And not everyone does. So. Not something I know how to tell someone I’m picking up. That that’s what I want: rough sex where I’m in control. Running my mouth with everything I wanna do. Making pretty boys beg and hot girls lose their mind.”

He clears his throat, shifts in his seat as he chances a glance back at Clarke, where she’s trying her best not to rub her thighs together. Because seriously, what the _fuck_.

“I can understand that,” she manages to say, trying to keep up with what her line in this should be. She’s his therapist, and therefore she needs to help him work through these feelings, put some strategies in place that could help in the future. An idea sparks in her mind suddenly and Clarke’s saying the words before she can even remind herself how bad of an idea it really is. “I think you should tell me your fantasies instead.”

Which is how it starts.

Bellamy’s unsurprisingly not totally convinced at first, sure that he’s being inappropriate and that Clarke’s suffering in silence, but she manages to pull herself together in enough of a professional manner to assure him that she can handle it, and that she really doesn’t want to lose the progress they’ve made on other fronts of his life. Which is true, at least. Even if his whole thing is definitely ethically ambiguous, she hasn’t completely crossed the line of not caring for his wellbeing at all.

She honestly cares _a lot_ about Bellamy’s wellbeing.

It just so happens that on top of caring about his wellbeing, she also really likes hearing his fantasies.

It starts off small, just elaborating on his first confession.

“I just get off better when I’m in control,” he tells Clarke when she brings it up during their next session, in case he wants to start talking it through properly. “The rest of my life has always felt like such a mess, but sex was the first thing I felt like I had power over, you know? And now -- now it’s like I _need_ that, when I’m fucking someone. Them at my mercy, doing what I ask because they love being told what to do as much as I love telling them.” He shakes his head, and Clarke has to stop herself from pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, has to focus on keeping her breaths light and even. “Fuck, it’s just so hot, Clarke,” he says, finding her gaze with his dark eyes, twinkling with an intensity that’s hard to look away from. “I love it so fucking much.”

Things continue from there, in the weeks that follow. Bellamy talks about his love of hard and dirty sex, about the primal satisfaction of being rough and loud and relentless as he fucks a guy’s throat or a girl’s cunt. He tells her about his role-play fantasies, all unsurprisingly centred around his desire for control, to be the authority: teacher and student, daddy and baby girl. She learns that he’s seriously into dirty talk, just loves to speak what he thinks and get the same in return- the filthier the better, as he puts it- and really wants to tie someone up, see what a pretty picture they make in his ropes and under his mercy.

All the while Clarke tries her best to convince herself that this is purely for him. Which -- they are talking through a lot of the sex stuff, to be fair, and she’s introduced Bellamy to the concept of power dynamics and kinks, which he knew about but didn’t really _know_ , and given him the resources to look into it further by himself. She’s helping, really, but there’s no denying that the topics of conversation are also something of a dream for her too.

One week it’s being fucked up the ass by a girl in a strap on, the next it’s a threesome with cum play, the freedom of both a thick cock and a pretty cunt to play with. He’ll talk through a night of spanking and hair pulling, and then switch to the image of him pumping his cock over a naked chest, thick ropes of cum spurting onto heavy tits, catching on nipples he suckles clean later on.

The fantasies vary, but each and every one goes straight to Clarke’s pussy. It’s only a matter of time before she caves and finally lets herself play with her cunt right after their session together, when Bellamy’s gone but the images his deep and mesmerising voice conjure up in her mind still remain.

That day comes about two months after the first mention of his sex life, when he feels _particularly_ like torturing her, with a drawn out fantasy of him and a girl, big tits and tight pussy and hair you can just latch onto and _pull_ , as he describes. It’s way too easy to self-insert.

“And I’d make her sit on my face, pretty cunt all bare for me,” he’s saying, eyes glazed over in the way they get now, when he seems to just lose all inhibitions and let his fantasies run. “And she’d be embarrassed, yeah, being so exposed? But I’d just fuck it out of her, make it so she couldn’t feel anything except my tongue on her clit, in her pussy, driving her fucking crazy until she came all over my mouth. Fuck, Clarke, I can just image the taste. She’d be so sweet, taste so good, and I’d just get to drink her all up, straight from her cunt.” He rakes a hand through his hair and Clarke swallows hard, shifting one leg tight over the other as wetness gathers at her pussy.

“And then?” She prompts, and Bellamy’s eyes flick to her chest for a moment before he responds.

“Then I’d wanna fuck her gorgeous tits, Clarke,” he tells her, and the way he’s saying her name is _really_ a problem, so deep she can practically feel it in her bones, feel the vibrations at her pussy. “Get them all nice and slicked up, pushed together all hot and perfect, and fuck my cock between them. God, she’d feel so good, so soft around me; almost as good as her pussy would, Clarke. And she’d let me fuck her tits until she was absolutely desperate for my cock, then she’d let me turn her onto all fours like the dirty girl she is and take her from behind.”

“And would she like that, Bellamy? This girl of yours?”

“Fuck, she’d love it. Gorgeous girl would have to, have to let me know just how much she loved my cock, or she wouldn’t get to come.”

“That sounds a little harsh,” Clarke comments, even when the thought makes her whole body flush, desire simmering beneath a barely contained surface. Her pussy feels soaked now, hot and wet and throbbing for proper attention, and it’s lucky their session is the last of the day, ending in only a couple of minutes.

Bellamy looks at her, eyes clearing a little, but still remaining dark with lust and alight with intensity. “She’d love it, Clarke,” he repeats, and it feels incredible pointed, who he means by _she_.

Clarke’s rucking her skirt up approximately three minutes later, after seeing Bellamy out and telling her receptionist to go home early. Her fingers flirt into her damp lace panties and find her cunt hot and sensitive, already on edge from Bellamy’s words, his fantasies of fucking a girl who so easily could’ve been her.

She whimpers at the first touch to her clit, a jolt of pleasure shooting through her as she lays back on her couch, gets comfortable, and it’s not long before she’s working her fingers on the fat bud in earnest, pressure building as her free hand pulls her blouse from her skirt to play with a nipple. It’s easy to let Bellamy fill her mind, imagine his large and rough hands replacing her own, his deep voice spurring her on and his expression going dazed and fucked-out like it was earlier, as she gets herself off, takes herself higher and higher.

Her clit starts throbbing and her nipples pull hard and tight in her fingers. Her legs begin to tremble and little whimpers slip from her mouth, and then Clarke’s keening, hot white release spreading from her fluttering cunt, arching her back and curling her toes and making her moan, all desperate and wanton.

It’s not until she opens her eyes as she comes down that she realises she’s no longer alone like she thought, and all at once the sweet afterglow of her orgasm is replaced by sheer panic.

“Bellamy,” Clarke squeaks, pulling her hand from her panties as she sits up quickly, tries to right her clothing into something resembling even the smallest amount of professionalism. Not that it _matters_ , when he walked in on her getting herself off after their session together, after he confessed yet another fantasy of his that got her too hot to wait the half hour it'd take to get home for release.

But before she can say anything else, Bellamy’s striding towards her, and Clarke realises there's only lust and need written across his face, that his eyes are wild with it.

His mouth crashes onto hers a second later, and Clarke clings to his shoulders, whimpering something hot and surprised into his mouth as he sweeps his tongue past the seam of her lips, kisses her wet and dirty and _so fucking good_ her mind spins a little, just trying to keep up with his desperation.

“That was so fucking hot, Clarke,” he pants out, when they finally break apart, and Clarke looks up at him through her lashes, taking in his hooded eyes and his flushed cheeks and his worked lips, kissed red and puffy by her. “Now, do you think I’ve successfully established the kind of sex I want?”

It’s completely fucked up, what she's done, what _they’ve_ done, and there’s no way Clarke can continue to be his therapist after this, but still, all she can do is let out a breathy, fucked-out laugh.

“Yeah,” she says, pulling him in for another kiss, letting herself wonder where the evening’s going to take her. Hopefully to her riding his face, getting her tits fucked by his cock until she’s desperate and begging for him in her cunt. “You’ve done alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> I realise there was only a glimpse of actual smut (and none that involved both bellamy and clarke), and the rest was just smut fantasy, but I hope it was still hot, and you guys enjoyed!!
> 
> I might add another chapter of real smut some time. If there's a particular fantasy you want to see recreated by them, let me know!
> 
> Comments/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
